Coast Guard Sweetheart Read Online Free

they used to be before...” He shook his head. “But once the other boy comes nothing will ever be the same.”
    She gathered him close. “Mimi and Braeden love you. That is something that will never change.”
    Max leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you think she wanted this baby ’cause I got too big to hold? I tried not to grow. Honestly.” He captured her face.
    She ignored the gritty feel of his palms on her skin and focused on his blueberry eyes where moisture welled. “Oh, Max.”
    Max had been born mere hours before his dying mother, Lindi, the oldest Duer daughter, bequeathed her infant son into the trustworthy hands of Amelia. And when Max turned two? Honey shuddered to recall those horrible years after Max was diagnosed with childhood leukemia. How she, Dad and most especially Amelia—Max’s beloved Mimi—suffered with the little boy through every treatment until he reached remission.
    The frail, sickly boy Braeden Scott first met had been replaced by this healthy, suntanned, mischievous bundle of energy. This same redheaded boy had been instrumental in Amelia finding her own happily-ever-after with the handsome Coastie Scott.
    â€œNothing will change when this baby’s born, Max. Only then, you’ll have someone else to play with and love, too.”
    â€œIt won’t be the same...” His voice dropped.
    She kissed his forehead. “It’ll be better, Max. Better than before, I promise.” His skin tasted of cinnamon sugar, a legacy from the Long John war.
    â€œLike Sawyer promised?” Max peered at her. “I like Sawyer. Don’t you remember when he—”
    â€œWhen he showed his true character.” Honey remembered that glorious spring far too well. “Sawyer Kole doesn’t keep his promises. Me you can trust, Max. Him, I can’t afford to.”
    * * *
    Sawyer grabbed the mooring line Seth Duer threw to him. He secured the rope around the cleat on the Kiptohanock wharf. Motorboats and other small fishing vessels also docked alongside the pier. The briny aroma of sea salt perfumed the air.
    He took a deep, steadying breath.
    Because this conversation promised to be about as fun as sitting on a desert cactus. Unpleasant, but a necessary part of Sawyer’s self-prescribed penance. He’d hurt this man’s daughter. Sawyer prepared himself to be slugged in the jaw and dropped in the Machipongo drink. All of which he deserved.
    And more.
    â€œMr. Duer, sir.”
    His hand hard with calluses, Seth passed him one of the now empty bait buckets. Sweat broke out on Sawyer’s forehead at the older man’s unnerving silence. He stepped back as Honey’s father hoisted the other bucket onto the pier. And with a light-footedness that denied his fifty-odd years, the rugged Shoreman bridged the gap between the Now I Sea and the dock.
    The wiry waterman brushed his hand over the top of the mounted iron bell on the end of the pier. A bell, Sawyer remembered, used only for the annual blessing of the fleet at the start of the fishing season in spring. And to summon the villagers in times of maritime disaster.
    â€œI’m assuming the Sandpiper has been restored to proper working order.”
    Sawyer nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    â€œYou starting your two days on or two days off, son?” Seth squinted at him, his eyes a variation of the blue-green teal many of the Shore residents sported. “May I call you, son?”
    Sawyer swallowed past the large boulder lodged in his throat. If only his own father had been a tenth of the man Seth Duer was.
    How often that spring he spent with Honey he’d envied her strong, loving family. Envied the faith that bound the community together. Wished he had somewhere and someone to call home.
    A seagull’s cry broke the silence. Sawyer realized that Seth Duer still awaited his response, the old waterman’s head cocked at an